


Oh My God They Were Quarantined

by sirius



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23155819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirius/pseuds/sirius
Summary: Lando, Alex and George sit out the night of Schrodinger's Grand Prix. They play Scrabble and drink hot cocoa*.*this is a lie
Relationships: Alexander Albon & Lando Norris & George Russell, Alexander Albon/Lando Norris/George Russell
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100





	Oh My God They Were Quarantined

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by this tweet: https://twitter.com/aww_beans/status/1237756282901315586.

They lie three to the bed. Alex and George take the sides, backs against the headboard. Lando lies on his back, legs up between their shoulders. On his stomach is balanced a bowl of Maltesers. Three pairs of hands dig in and dig out. Three 'phones beep on and off, never with anything definitive. The race is on one minute, and off the next. 

“You're both gonna have to get tested,” Lando says. 

“Mm,” George says, lazily. He's stroking Lando's ankle with one absent finger. 

“D'ya think this is gonna go ahead?” Alex asks, finally. He's been hesitant to ask, what with Lando being for sure out of it, but it's nagging on him. They shouldn't be sitting here, together, at midnight, eating Maltesers, if it's on. Lando often races on three hours sleep, but Alex – Alex likes to play it right. He gets his eight, eight and a half hours rest, and no food after 7pm. Especially no chocolate.

“No,” George says. “I don't think so. They're just trying to work out how to sell it.”

“I really wanted to race,” Lando says. 

“I know,” Alex says. His fingers touch George's around Lando's ankle. “I know.”

“OK, enough,” George says. “Let's play a game.”

Alex's ears prick up. 

“Truth or dare?” George asks Lando. 

“Mm,” Lando hums. “Truth.”

“OK,” George says. He exchanges a glance with Alex, nudges him with his shoulder. Alex mouths at Lando: _coward_. Lando kicks him in the head.

“OK,” George says. “I got a good one. What's your secret kink?”

Alex howls at the ceiling. “G, that is pure shit. He likes _all fucking sorts_. There's nothing we don't know. You wasted that one.”

Lando rolls his hips from side to side, contemplatively. George smiles. 

“No,” he says. “I think he's got something up his sleeve.”

***

**Summer 2019**

Lando lies prone on his back, on the bed. Alex sits beside him, worrying at a thumbnail with his teeth.

“I just...” he tails off.

“It's OK,” Lando says.

“He's- you're- so little. So-”

“Hey!” Lando says. “Stop it. I'm not a child.”

“I know you're not, mate,” Alex says. “I just. I don't want you to get hurt.”

“I'm not,” Lando says. His mouth turns down, and George recognises the storm flickering behind his eyes.

“He knows what he's doing,” George says. “We talked about this. He sent me a link. I read about it. We all know the stop signs. You being here makes it even safer. But we won't do it if you're not comfortable.”

“It's not that I'm not- I just... don't want him to die, and us two to end up in prison. Dealing spice and drones.”

“I don't think people deal in drones,” George says, frowning. 

“You know what I mean. You're too pretty for jail.”

“I'm not going to die,” Lando says. “You think I'm going to let G kill me before I win a championship? Fuck off.”

“Alright,” Alex says. “Alright.”

“OK,” Lando says, grinning. “You gotta concentrate, though. No getting too excited about my dick and letting me get strangled.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Think I'll manage,” he says, dryly.

Lando lies back, against the sheets. He's pale, so pale, and his skin is so soft. His eyes are so big, so blue. He wears nakedness without a hint of bashfulness. George leans down and brushes his curls off his forehead. Leans down, and they kiss. An agreement forms in their glance. Alex brings his knees up to his chest. 

“Stroke him,” George says, to Alex. “As I do it.”

“OK,” Alex says, shifting closer. 

They work together. George lies back as Lando begins, touching himself. It's his thing – he is often the trickiest of the three to get going, and they know it works better when they let him start things off for himself. He's still at the stage where his own hand is what his brain knows best, and he responds to his own touch much faster than to either of theirs. There's no embarrassment in his face as he strokes himself; it's a prelude, a necessary step, like shucking on a condom. It isn't done for pleasure so much as for practicality. Still, he huffs breath, enjoying it.

Alex takes over, after a little while, stroking him with a knowing, wet hand. That's when Lando begins to breeze in and out of the pleasure, eyes opening and closing. 

“Now,” he husks, to George. 

George looks to Alex, nods. He moves his long, delicate hands up over Lando's collarbone, hovering for a second, and then he places them around Lando's throat. Alex's gaze flickers up from Lando's dick, to Lando's eyes, to George's face. George is all focus. He's hard as nails but unaware of it; focussed only on Lando and what he can take. Lando's eyes lid at the touch of George's fingers, and as they tighten around his Adam's apple, they open. A gasp stutters out, and he twitches in Alex's hand. Alex works his thumb over the head, swirls it, just as Lando likes. Lando's hands turn over, helpless against the bedspread. George's face is soft and curious. He flexes his fingers, watching intently, utterly concentrated. Lando's hands move up and he touches one to each of his boys' wrists. His grip rivals George's for intensity. Alex's hand speeds up at George's nod, and Lando throws his head back as his eyes flicker. His entire body jolts up as he comes, Alex's eyebrows high as he communicates with George – _that was really hard_ – and he strokes him through the comedown. George releases his hands, replaces them with kisses. Waits for Lando to come back down to earth. 

When Lando does, his eyes wide and brilliant, all three of them are smiling.

“Fuck,” Lando whispers. “Fuck _me_.”

***

“I'd pee on you,” Lando says, to George. “Not you,” he says to Alex. “You're way too vanilla.”

Alex's mouth hangs open for several moments. His throat is making a weird sound. George veritably cackles, beside him. 

“Told you,” he says. 

“You're – there's – fuck. Fuck me, you perverted _goblin_.”

Lando smiles beatifically. “Your turn next. Truth or dare.”

“If I say dare, will you dare me to pee on George?”

“No,” Lando says. “This isn't a hazing ritual, jesus, Al. Calm down. C'mere. Kiss.”

Alex leans over, kisses him. It turns appreciative. There's a dual-murmur in Alex's throat as he kisses Lando and as George shamelessly gropes his arse. 

“OK,” he says. “I want a truth.”

“Now who's a coward,” Lando sing-songs. 

“I'm going to spank you,” Alex growls.

“Oh no,” Lando says. “How terrible for me.”

“Stop turning the goblin on,” George says. 

“Stop calling me a-”

“Hey,” Alex says. “I'm about to reveal some kind of seriously deep heartfelt truth here. This is my moment and you're peeing on it. Lando, don't say 'wanky'-”

“Dammit,” Lando says. “OK. Truth, truth. What was the last dirty thing you searched for on your 'phone?”

Alex screws his face up. “Fuck,” he says. Today has been really boring. Too boring. He's had three drivers' room wanks and, if he's honest, gone into some fairly dubious corners of Pornhub today. This was a very bad day to be asked this question. “Can I switch to dare?”

“No,” George says, propping himself up on his elbow. “Definitely not.”

“Look,” Alex says. “In my defence-”

“Oh, God,” Lando says. “Please don't have a nervous breakdown over a really mild kink again. Seriously, if you start off again the race will have to be cancelled because that's how much time we'll need to sort you out. It'll be like the spanking episode all over again.”

“It wasn't an _episode_! I'm- I'm a well brought up boy, that's all, and we don't- it's very. It's not my fault you two are completely comfortable with _everything_!”

“I love that I'm corrupting you,” Lando chirps.

“I do, too,” George says. “Although I think Lando is corrupting both of us. I'm not convinced I've much to do with it.”

“I am the filthiest,” Lando agrees. “But you're selling yourself short, G. You've plenty of things to be ashamed of.”

“You're letting Alex off the hook.”

“I'm not. I'm making him feel comfortable so that he can tell me what kind of depraved shit he's been having it off to in the bathroom today.”

“I haven't been having it off in the bathroom!”

“You so have,” Lando says. “I can tell. You have that energy.”

“You'd know,” Alex says. 

“Exactly,” Lando says. “You're all- you know. Electric. Static-y. I can tell, is the point.”

“What about G?”

“G doesn't have it off in bathrooms,” Lando says, desolately. 

“It's a hygiene thing,” George says.

“Huh.” 

“But you'd get peed on? Makes perfect fucking sense.”

“I'm complicated,” George shrugs. “Anyway. Enough stripping. You need to start sucking.”

“I need to- what?”

“Answer Lando's question.”

“I... fuck. OK. Look. You can't judge me.”

“Nobody is judging you.”

“It doesn't mean I like it. You know, sometimes you just... you look at something, and then another thing pops up, or it autoplays or whatever and you're too far gone to like, change it, so you just sorta make the best of it? And then you realise after that you came to some, you know, grimy shit, and you feel bad about yourself?”

“This better be really bad,” Lando says. “Because I'm bored.”

“Let him get it out,” George says. “He needs it, to heal.”

“Ugh.”

“I'm just saying-”

“You're not into it. You didn't search it. It came up, and you watched it, and you already had your hand there and it felt good so you finished but it doesn't mean you're into it. It's fine, Al, just spit it out already.”

“Look, in my defence, the guy was... like, he had this amazing arse, and-”

“I thought you hated rimming,” Lando says.

“It wasn't rimming,” Alex says. “He just. He had this arse, and it was really good. Like, he was on a table, hands and knees, and I actually thought it was a girl at first, because- you know, um, he had like, a really short, like, flippy skirt on? But not in a schoolgirl way or anything. Like, a bit like a stripper, which is what I thought it was. And others guys were like, feeling him up, and one fucked him, and I honestly didn't look for any of this and I wasn't looking at the skirt, and-”

Lando is in fits. George has to smother him with a pillow – _that'll only turn him on_ , Alex says, trying to regain the high ground – and with his other hand, he pats Alex's thigh encouragingly. 

“I hate this game,” Alex whines.

“Do you want me to wear a skirt?” Lando says, muffled. “Do you want _George_ to wear one?”

“No! I don't want anyone wearing skirts, OK, just- fuck off. I was on Pornhub obviously and I'd looked for spit-roasting which is absolutely fine because, you know, we do it. So. I don't know why it played.”

“He wants me to wear a skirt,” Lando whispers, as George moves in and tackles him.

“I _don't_!”

“Is it a bisexual thing? Is it an- argghhh stop biting me!”

George does not. Lando kicks with his legs as George straddles him, the pillow falling off the bed, and fangs him in the neck. Alex watches, amused. 

“Don't go easy on him, G,” he says.

Lando smacks him on the leg with a futile closed-fist. 

“Are you going to behave?” George mutters in Lando's ear, as Lando struggles beneath him, eyes afire. “I'm not releasing you unless you're going to behave.”

“No,” he says, crossly, wriggling. “I'm going to kick him.”

“Hey,” George says, turning his chin to face him. “That wasn't a question. You need to behave. Stop being a mardy arse.”

Lando looks at him, jaw working. “More,” he whispers.

“I don't like it when you're whining like a baby,” George says, low. “I like it when you behave. It pleases me. Right now, you're pissing me off. I don't like it.”

“Mm,” Lando says. He's stopped wriggling.

“That's better,” George says.

“Mmmm,” he says. 

“Fuck,” Alex whispers. “Can you do that to me?”

“Later,” George says, sitting back up. “It's my turn for a question.”

***

**November 2018**

It's Lando's birthday. Most people get a cake. What he's asked for- well. It's not a cake.

Alex sits in the corner of the room, in the totally-insufficient-for-an-adult-human chair that hotels always have. The lights are dim but Lando's body is illumination enough. His arms and legs are spread and he's loosely tied to the posts with what looks like very expensive ties. He's hard, and he's furious, which amuses Alex because _he asked for this_.

And yet, he's silent. His toes are curled up in rage, and his jaw is set, but he's not complaining.

George is circling the bed. His eyes are set, hard. Lando naked, restrained, dripping – of course Alex is hard. But George is clothed, cautious, in control, and that makes him positively twitch. 

Alex likes waiting; he understands how good it feels to wait to be touched. It's just that Lando, as with everything, takes it to new extremes. He can't relieve himself. He can't ease the pressure with his own hand, or with the sheets. His only hope is that he pleases George enough with his obedience, that he earns his mouth or hand. And he _loves_ that fact.

“George,” he whines. 

“Shut up,” George says. “I didn't ask you to speak.”

Alex moans under his breath. George's gaze falls on him. 

“I know what you want, Lando,” he says, softly, pads across the bedroom floor. Nods to Alex; _get up_. Alex does. George walks him back into the wall, kisses him, loud, gratuitous. Moves his hand into Alex's pants, unforgiving, and Alex tips his head back with a heady gasp. He can see, through half-closed eyes, that Lando is trying to lift his head to see what's happening, and failing because of the pressure it's putting on his shoulders. His breath comes out in great pounds. George's hand is wet, soft, firm, hitting all the sensitive spots.

“You want this,” George says, to Lando. “You want my hand, warm and soft and callouses where you like them, around your dick. You're so hard, and you need it so much, and you're dripping all over yourself, the sheets. And I'm touching him instead. I'm rubbing my hand up and down him, fast, like you need. And he's grabbing at my t-shirt because it feels that fucking good.”

Alex looks down, startled, because apparently that's exactly what he's doing. 

Lando is sobbing breath. 

“And he's going to come, in maybe- I dunno, Al, 15 seconds, you reckon? And you can't. You gotta listen to him come, listen to him get that close, and let go to it, feeling so good. And you're just throbbing because nobody is touching you.”

“ _Please_ ,” Lando says.

“No,” George says, his hand continuing uninterrupted. “You have to say the words.”

“Oh, fuck,” Lando whines.

“G,” Alex breathes. “I can't- I can't hold-”

“You don't have to,” George croons, lips in his neck. “You're not being tested. You can come, babe. You can come for me.”

“Fuccccckk-”

“There, there, that's good, that's so good, you're so hot, Al,” George whispers. 

Lando is, Alex supposes, on the verge of homicidal behaviour. 

“Alright alright alright alright,” he cries, staccato. “I am _begging_ you, I am _begging_. Please touch me. Please, please, please, _please_ touch me.”

“Wow,” Alex murmurs. George leans in, kisses his forehead, helps him collapse into the chair. Then, he pads cat-like across the room, back towards the bed. 

“OK,” he soothes. “I'm coming.”

Lando grabs him, as soon as he feels his weight next to him on the bed; Alex thinks, blurry, that he's going to pull him in for a kiss but he's beyond that, quite clearly. He pushes George's head down, and George tolerates the roughness in a way that he wouldn't ordinarily in this kind of play between them. But Lando is desperate, and George is merciful, and so he doesn't tease with his lips. He swallows Lando down, firm, and bobs his head with practised dexterity, his hands fanning out under Lando's arse. Lando cries out, loud, long, almost deranged, almost laughing – and his legs tremble with the effort of holding him up. 

He uses George's name, and Alex watches George's eyes flick up his body, turning dark with arousal. Interesting, he thinks. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Lando murmurs on the comedown, and George takes his thighs over his shoulders as he lowers him back down. Lando's chest heaves and his chin is wet with his own spit. Alex rises up, moves over, unties him. Sits behind him amongst the pillows, lets his head drop into his lap. Their eyes meet one upright one upside down, and Lando looks sated in a way that Alex has never seen before.

“That,” Alex murmurs to them both. “was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

***

“Truth or dare?” Alex asks.

“Truth,” George says, completing the circle. 

“What's the least sexual thing that Lando or I has done that's made you hard?”

Lando slots his hands behind his head, fascinated. George rocks his jaw from side to side, thinking. 

“That's actually a good question,” Lando says.

“Cheers, Lando,” Alex quips.

“OK,” George says. “You first, as you asked.”

Alex grins.

“I mean, it's obviously your rapping.”

Alex stops grinning.

“I'm kidding! Alright. You do this thing, when you get pissed off. Like, really pissed off. Not just annoyed with me or the mardy goblin. Your eyes go all dark and your jaw like, goes on edge, and you fold your arms, and I'm like- fuck yeah. I always liked it. Even when we were kids, it like- it made me feel like something good was gonna happen. I thought I just liked your temper. But it was, y'know. More than that.”

“When did it start, with you guys?” Lando asks.

“F2,” Alex says. “Not until then. But things had been getting weird for a while. We'd have these weird moments.”

“When I was... I dunno, 15? Alex stayed over at mine a lot, and he shared my room. My bunkbed, ha. Jesus. And one night-”

“Oh, fuck, I know what you're gonna say.”

“Well, OK, probably most nights, like, one or the other of us would have a wank at night. After the other had gone to sleep. But that night, like, Alex... Alex was doing it, and I was awake, and he totally knew I was awake-”

“I did,” Alex says. “I'm a terrible human being.”

“Not as terrible as me,” George grins. “I started doing it as well, when I realised. I'd never heard anyone, you know, except me. I'd never heard noises like- yeah. And it made me feel like my head was on fire. I couldn't help it.”

“Did you know George was doing it as well?”

“Yeah,” Alex says. “Come on. We weren't subtle. Lots of odd coughs and shifting about. His parents probably thought we'd both developed pneumonia all of a sudden.”

“I'm pretty sure they didn't. I was a horrible teenager.”

“Christ,” Alex says. “I couldn't be. I mean, you know. So many sisters. It was a luxury to have a wank in a bunkbed.”

“Wow,” Lando says. “Did you talk about it?”

“Only once we became a thing,” Alex says. “In the morning, we just pretended nothing had happened.”

“Huh.”

They all lie, digesting. Then, Lando reaches out and strokes George's thigh, bringing him back to the room.

“Lando – non-sexual things that are hot – it's actually easier, I think, because you do loads of stuff and you don't even know it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. When you're moody, it's hot. You get this face on, and your lip goes out, and damn- it really does it for me, because I know that I can stop it, by sucking you off, or fucking you. When you're happy, you get all bright-eyed and difficult and I think about, like, spanking you. To get you to behave. And I just- when you hop up on stuff, I want to pick you up. I love that you're smaller than me, lighter. It turns me on that I can get your legs around my waist and hold you against the wall.”

“G,” Alex says. “You like him more than me. I've long suspected, but now I know.”

“Who wouldn't?” Lando says.

“I think about spanking you, too, Al, if it helps.”

“It does help.”

“You know what I wanna try?”

***

**March 2020**

Both George and Lando need prepping, which Alex considers far too much for one man, but oh how he'll enjoy trying. He lies stomach-down and uses a hand for each, and – true to form – it's like watching the moon and the sun. Y'know, if the moon and the sun could be fingered (astrologically, deeply suspect). 

Lando flexes around on Alex's fingers like a dog trying to get at an itch (he'd never say so aloud), and takes takes takes, so that really it's more foreplay than it is preparation, because by the time George is moving to a second finger Lando is already asking for four. 

“You,” George murmurs. “are a big fucking slut, Lando.”

“Mmm,” Lando says. “It feels good.”

“He's not fucking you,” George says. “I'm going to fuck you. Stop fucking him, Al.”

“I'm not!” Alex says. “He's fucking himself. On me. Lando, for fuck's sake, you're going to break my wrist.”

“So _sorry_ that it's _nice_ ,” Lando retorts. “Ahhh. That's the good spot.”

“Look at George,” Alex says, in desperation. “He's taking it and not, you know, trying to get fisted.”

“How many fingers is he on?”

“Christ, Lando.”

“How many?”

“It's not a competition.”

“Two,” George says. “And a half. Lando, if you come before we've started, I'll lock you outside.”

“I want four.”

“You can't have four. You come when you have four. Just behave.”

Lando sighs, Alex grins. He eases George, slowly, into three. It's beautiful. George never rushes it, because he's not embarrassed about being slow to adjust to it. Alex loves it when he can be gentle, and tender, and then suddenly everything relaxes and George does this _sigh_. With Lando, it's ball-tinglingly hot, but it's different. As soon as he's had a finger for longer than 10 seconds he's pushing to get more, and the way he uses Alex to pleasure himself, fuck, there are few things hotter. Not for the first time, Alex reflects on how fucking lucky he is, to get to do them both at once.

“If he isn't ready by now,” Lando says. “I'm going to scream.”

***

“Christ,” Alex says.

“You alright, Al? Wanna switch?”

“Nah,” Alex says. “Just, careful, please. You're really close to my balls, and not in a good way.”

George uses his hands to steady Lando, who is trying to look down at Alex. They make an uneasy pyramid; Alex lies spread on the bottom, George lies flat against him, back to chest, and Lando the same against him. They're not absolutely convinced that this is going to work – or that Alex isn't going to get squashed – but it's 3am and they're both exhausted and wired; what better time to try it?

“Right,” George says. “Alex, you're gonna have to start. No, Lando, you've got to go last-”

“Arghhh.”

“Al, can you- I can't move that easily, Lando is fucking grinding me. _Lando_.”

“Alright, alright, I'm _sorry_ , jesus. It feels so good.”

George smacks his hip, and he settles down. Lifts his hips up to allow George more room and, by default, Alex too. Without being able to make eye contact, it's not easy, and much has to be taken on trust.

“Al, can you just- honestly, just. Line it up and push. I can't see a damn thing. I trust you.”

Alex takes his hips, takes a deep breath, and takes his chances. It helps that Lando is bearing his own weight. Still, when he slides forward, and George meets him, his teeth graze George's shoulder, because he's never fucked anyone upwards, and the weight makes everything feel much balls-deeper, and he knows he's probably biting a bit hard, but _fuck_.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck?” George is murmuring, like it's a question, and Alex wants to laugh but doesn't dare because if George does, this is going to all be over.

“How does it feel?” Lando asks.

“Like- like I need to think, really hard, about unsexy things, because if I come now I'm going to yeet myself out the window,” Alex says. 

“Cool,” Lando says.

“Give me a minute,” George says. “He's right in the good spot and if I get in you, I'm going to be yeeting as well.”

“Oh, cool. Great. I'll just lie here. No worries.”

George snorts with laughter, and Alex smacks him hard on the arm. “Don't,” he hisses.

“Alright, alright, sorry.”

George snakes a hand around Lando's hip and gives him a few tiding-over strokes, which placates him a bit. 

“Alright,” he says. “Al, don't move.”

“Hahaha,” Alex says. “Like I could even.”

“Lando, can you keep your hips up for me? And for the love of God, don't fuck down, OK?”

“I do have some self-control.”

“Debatable,” Alex snorts.

“Fuck off, Alex.”

“Enough. Alright, good. Just- I'll go up, don't go down. I'll bring you down.”

“George, if you don't start fucking me soon, I'll be the one yeeting myself out of the window, in search of someone who can.”

“Jesus,” George says. “OK. Alright.”

He moves forwards, gingerly, aware that pushing forward means pulling out, and Alex's whine of displeasure is as sharp as Lando's one of. He gets halfway, hands tightly gripping Lando's hips, and with a murmured instruction, he gently pulls him back down. It moves Alex forward into George, and George full into Lando, and all of them make a noise that is deeply, and thoroughly, unsexy. 

“Ha ha ha ha ha,” Alex says. “I'm going to pass out.”

“Please don't,” George says. “It'd be bloody hard to explain. Oh, christ, this is- OK. Can we- Alex, can you do a bit of a thrust? Just a bit.”

“It's like a Mexican wave, this,” Lando says. 

“Cheers, Lando,” Alex says. He tries a tentative thrust. 

“I feel like I'm surfing,” Lando says.

“G, can you put your fingers in his mouth?”

George passes on the thrust, which does the job of shutting Lando up – but he offers him his fingers, nonetheless. Lando likes it, tipping his head back and rolling down submissive. George consciously takes his weight, before moving the thrust down, ensuring that Alex can take it. They repeat it three or four times, until Lando is moreorless totally limp on George, and Alex is basically setting the pace. George slides his other hand over Lando's hip, takes his dick, and strokes. Lando keens around his fingers.

“You OK, Al?” George asks.

“Piece of cake,” Alex says. “Flex on me, G. I can take it.”

George does, and Lando's cries louden. 

“Fuck,” Alex murmurs, and squeezes George's arse. 

“More. Please.”

“Alright, Lando,” Alex says, rolling his eyes.

“That was me,” George huffs.

“Oh. Fuck, OK.”

“I agree,” Lando says. “More is good.”

“Alright. I'm gonna go for it. All for me going for it?”

“ _Yes,_ ” George says. 

It's George's fantasy, so it's not surprising that it affects him most, but Alex hasn't felt him like this, not since the beginning of Them. His entire body is shaking and he's losing more of the ability to hold himself up with every passing second. Alex crooks a hand into his hip, pulling him down and in, taking his weight, so that George is no longer thrusting independently, but carrying Alex's movement through to its logical completion in Lando. Lando, in turn, is weightless; buried snug against George, taking the hard thrusts meant for both of them. His fingers are entwined with George's own, keeping up a rhythmic hand on himself, panting. 

“Can you take harder?” It's addressed to both of them – whatever Alex does to George, he does to Lando by proxy.

They're both breathing hard, and George is mostly out of it, but their answer is mutual and definitive, and Alex sets his jaw and uses every bit of core strength he's got – thank you, thank you, thank you Patrick, he thinks – and lets his hips do the work. They both fuck Lando, through George; or he fucks Lando using George. It's not entirely clear. What is clear is that George is coming undone between them, gasping and keening and faltering, and Alex can't think straight, can only push and push and push until he can't hold off any longer. He reaches up with his arm and taps the mixture of George and Lando's forearm on Lando's belly, and – thank _God_ – it barely registers, as George comes between them with a gnarled yell. Lando almost jumps, taken by surprise, and the way he _moans_ at being come inside, that's enough to push Alex right over the edge. 

When the black sparkles move out of his eyes, he's able to refocus, his ears ringing with the sound.

“Lando,” he says, almost hoarse. “Did you hit the fucking ceiling?”

***

“It's not like he can blame either of us,” George says, as they survey the damage.

There's no other way to make it work, but for a ragdoll naked George to sit on Alex's shoulders, and for Alex to stand up on the mattress and raise him up to the ceiling with his washcloth. Lando sits on the desk, directing the show and/or laughing.

“You're gonna have to- can you go on tiptoes?” George is saying.

“No,” Alex says. “I'm not a fucking ballerina. God, G, your cock is digging into my ear.”

“I can't reach it. Lando, _jesus_ , this is a lot.”

Lando shrugs. “You should've let me come first, when Alex was prepping me. It would've been less bad second time around.”

“Fantastic, thanks mate. So helpful. Al, can you please stay still?”

“Sorry, mate, can't hear you for _your cock_.”

“Arrrrrgh,” George says. “Al, just- lift me, or something, this is hopeless.”

“Like Dirty Dancing,” Lando says, absently, browsing his 'phone. “Nobody puts Baby on top, where he's likely to come on the ceiling.”

“I'm going to kill you both,” Alex says. “Painfully. Alright, hang on, just- OK, lifting-”

George leans up, thighs wrapped around Alex's ears, and swipes hard at the ceiling.

“Don't hit the fire alarm,” Lando says. “That's all we need.”

Alex gives him the finger. His 'phone beeps, and he makes a second irritated hand gesture that Lando interrupts as 'please read my message for me, even if it's from my fourth, fifth or sixth boyfriend'. Thankfully, it's not – it's from Alex's PR.

“Race is off for Red Bull,” Lando says. “Sorry, mate.”

Alex gives him the thumbs down, wobbling, as George finishes off. 

“Very sad for you, mate,” George says. “But if you drop me right now, you'll be out for the entire season when I get my hands on you. And stop groping my arse.”

***

They fall asleep in a messy pile just as Melbourne awakens. Light finds its way into the crevices of the room, and everything is quiet and peaceful.

What they don't know is that they've all been subjected to a secret dare. 

_Have very vigorous three-way pyramid sex in pristine white 2000 thread count sheets, with a forgotten bowl of Maltesers in the bed._


End file.
